‘I—I mean, she were—’ ‘Pretty as a picture?’ suggested Gerald. Yet you can look Cheveney in the face and declare that you do not know him. This roof is still open to you. What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for her. ’ Amusement flickered in Gerald’s breast.
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